


sunflowers blooming (in the light of your smile)

by starklystar



Series: leave the war at the doorstep [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, BAMF Sarah Rogers, Flower Thief!Steve, Fluff, M/M, No Angst, Sort Of, This story goes from crack to honest to god, Tony has a flower garden, and we have, oh and, who is a nurse so this story involves hospitals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:20:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23717341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starklystar/pseuds/starklystar
Summary: Tony finally catches the bastard who's been stealing from his flowerbeds and insists on coming along to see if the woman Steve's been dating is worth the missing flowers.Spoiler alert: there's no woman.And Steve might have some (not) valid reasons for stealing the flowers.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: leave the war at the doorstep [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1654537
Comments: 31
Kudos: 415





	sunflowers blooming (in the light of your smile)

**Author's Note:**

> for my friend who suggested this insane idea, and some fluff to cheer up everyone's day :)

“Stop right there!” Tony triumphantly shouts, poking his head out of the bushes to pin a glare at his flower stealer.

The bastard’s been making Tony lose his bet with Rhodey. He _can_ keep a flowerbed alive, dammit, as long as the thief stops picking at his budding flowers every month.

From this angle, Tony can only see the back of the frozen man, halfway bent and ass on full display, and Tony stalks out to teach a fellow citizen a lesson about respect. But he gets about two steps before the man straightens and turns to face Tony and, _wow_ , if that ass had been something, that face was everything.

That ruffled blond hair, the shirt stretching painfully ~~(beautifully)~~ tight across well-defined muscles, and the bluest blue eyes.

 _He’s still an asshole_ , Tony’s brain decides to remind him before his thoughts stray too far, and once again Tony’s back on his warpath against the sheepish man.

There are three of Tony’s newly blossomed roses in Blondie’s hand, and one of Tony’s beautiful, tall sunflowers – those took _months_ until Tony managed to coax them to life amid Rhodey and Pepper’s amusement.

Blondie’s other hand is holding gardening scissors, and no. Just, no. If he can buy those scissors, he can buy his own flowers.

No more. Tony’s drawing the line, right here, right now.

“Uh, sorry?” Blondie has the audacity to say, and fucking _hell_ , the guy actually sounds so forlorn and those blue eyes are widening, lips jutting forward slightly in a ~~cute~~ pout. Not fair.

Wrenching the flower stems from Blondie’s hand, Tony holds them possessively against his chest, trying his damn hardest to keep glaring at the godlike vision in front of him. “Why have you been stealing my flowers?”

“Well, actually – ”

“You know what? You can keep these flowers but you gotta prove to me the girl you’re trying to impress is _really_ worth the death of my babies and my dignity,” Tony cuts in, because why else would this beauty of a man steal flowers if not to woo a ridiculous woman (she has to be ridiculous to not fall instantly for perfection, but that’s not the point), the point is, “in fact, I’ll come with you. I’m holding these flowers hostage until I decide she’s worth the sweat of my labor.”

“What? No, you can keep the flowers, I’ll just – ” Blondie waves his flowerless hand in the air, trying to change to topic and most likely flee now that he’s been caught in the act, and _no._

Tony has _not_ endured months of frustration with his dying flowers only to have his thief run away. Quickly making a grab for the man’s scissors, Tony waves them threateningly in the man’s face. “You’re not going anywhere without me. Now get in the car,” he points with the scissors at his silver Audi parked in the driveway, “and you’ll give me the directions to your date.”

“Can’t I make it up to you some other way?” Blondie gulps nervously, eyes darting all over the place, looking for an escape route Tony’s not going to give him.

“Are you a serial killer?” Tony asks, belatedly realising that if this man is a flower thief, there’s a chance he could also be committing other crimes.

That suspicion is dashed away quickly enough with the man’s very indignant, “no,” which sounds offended enough that it can’t possibly be a lie.

“Okay, see? No reason not to get in the car,” Tony smirks as Blondie’s nervousness grows by the second. The man makes no move except the shuffling of his feet, though, so Tony prods him slightly with the scissors. “Chop chop, places to be, girlfriends to meet.”

* * *

They’re strapped in their seatbelts, flowers and scissors tucked safely away in the backseat and Blondie – who really needs a name – is flipping his phone over and over again in his hand, probably worrying over being late.

“Let’s back up,” Tony breaks the awkward silence. “I’m Tony.”

“I’m Steve,” Blondie-who-finally-has-a-name answers. He clears his throats, glancing uncertainly at Tony and biting his bottom lip in a way Tony’s sure is illegal in all fifty states. “So, uh, the flowers?”

“Yes, give me the directions, or,” Tony fishes out his phone from his pockets, tapping on the map application and handing it to Steve, “you can give them here.”

Steve’s fingers hovers on the keyboard for a moment, only beginning to type when Tony raises what he’s been told is a very judgemental eyebrow. After a few seconds, Steve hands back the phone and Tony’s impatient to figure out which cheesy restaurant they’re heading to for the lunch date, except –

“This is an address to the hospital,” Tony frowns, looking up from his phone at Steve and back down at the blue line snaking across his screen.

Steve shrugs, a small smile on his face, “I tried to tell you. I’m visiting my Ma.”

Tony blinks, suddenly feeling like _he’s_ the asshole. “Oh. Is she – is she alright?”

“No! I mean, she’s not a patient. She’s a nurse,” Steve shifts in his seat, obviously wanting to leave.

Tony turns over his shoulder to check, and, as he suspected, sees no car or vehicle parked near his house. Steve must be living somewhere near and is planning to take the bus from the end of the block. That’s unacceptable.

Turning back to his front, Tony slips his phone into its clip stand and turns on the ignition. “Right. I’m driving you. I need to tattle on your Ma that her son’s been breaking laws.”

“They were on the side of the street,” Steve dares to defend himself even as he holds on to dear life at Tony’s speed, “I thought they were public property.”

“You take them _every month!_ ” Tony protests, slipping smoothly in front of another car and turning left, “do you know how hard it is to get those babies growing?”

He keeps his eyes firmly planted on the road, because that’s safe driving and he shouldn’t be distracted by Steve’s bulging arms or by the glimmer of hope at the realisation that Steve is _not_ going on a date and therefore has a probability of being single.

Tony can’t really be thinking of asking out the bastard that is his flower thief, though, can he? A one night stand could work, but dating? No, he’s had enough of dating assholes.

“Yeah, but the roses are for the grandmas in the elderly ward, and the sunflower is for the little girls who want something to draw,” Steve explains and is he actively trying to stress Tony out? One second he’s the bastard stealing Tony’s baby buds, the next he’s an angel giving out flowers to those who need a smile.

This man will be the death of Tony. “You couldn’t just _buy_ those flowers?” he asks, because if he focuses on Steve’s annoying traits, he can try to ignore the flip flop of his heart. It turns out, however, that Steve is truly adamant on sending Tony to an early grave.

“I could, but they’re never fresh and they don’t last long. Yours last for two weeks before they wither, and, oh!” Steve claps his hand, Tony’s eyes straying for a second from the road to appreciate the blinding smile Steve sends him, “I’ll have to show you the hospital’s small sunflower garden. They planted it with seeds from your flowers, but it hasn’t bloomed yet.”

And god, Tony’s fucked.

* * *

“Wait here,” Steve leaves Tony standing stupidly at the end of the corridor with three roses and a giant sunflower. “I won’t be long.”

A stream of people pass him, evidently bewildered by his lurking presence. Maybe this was a bad idea, and Steve’s simply abandoned Tony in fear that Tony’s secretly a crazy stalker. Maybe Tony should just go home and stick a passive aggressive sign in his flowerbeds instead of staring at the mind-numbing white walls surrounding him.

The seconds tick away slowly, and Tony’s tapping an agitated rhythm with his shoes, unable to truly stay still – when a kindly woman wearing a nurse’s uniform comes up to him and asks if he’s waiting for anyone in particular.

Scratching the back of his hair, Tony nods. “Yeah, I came with a – let’s call him a friend.”

“Oh, don’t worry, dear,” the nurse pats Tony’s arm gently, “as long as you’re doing everything safely, I don’t care who you’re here with.”

Tony chokes, and the nurse – her nametag reads Sarah – smiles, continuing to speak, “are those flowers for him?”

“No,” Tony admits, perhaps too quickly, “he wanted to give them to his mother, and he’s looking for her.” That gives Tony an idea that might end this suffering quicker, “his name’s Steve. Do you know his mother? She’s a nurse, too.”

Sarah tilts her head, most likely trying to recollect a name as common as Steve. She does end up nodding, though, and tells Tony, “his Ma’s a little busy right now. Why don’t we try finding him together?”

“Don’t you have other patients to attend to?” Tony hesitates. He isn’t going to keep this kind lady from doing her job and saving lives.

“Nope,” Sarah insists, latching onto Tony’s right arm and pulling him away from the wall he’d been leaning against. Her eyes crinkle in laughter, and Tony wonders at her enthusiasm.

As she drags him down the hallway, she asks, “how did you and Steve meet?”

“He stole my flowers,” Tony blurts out. Sarah laughs – no, she _cackles_ – so loudly that the people walking past them pause to stare. She doesn’t seem to mind, though, and Tony has to ask in return, “where are you taking me?”

“Steve’s definitely stuck in the children’s ward. They like making him draw,” Sarah explains, pushing Tony past some double doors and into another long corridor. “It’s good to see he’s making friends his own age.”

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Tony clarifies, “I wouldn’t say friends. We’re enemies at a temporary truce. He stole my flowers.”

“I hope he stole more than that,” Sarah mutters under her breath, and what? Do nurses at this hospital have an underlying tendency for stealing? Tony wants to ask, but they walk through another set of double doors and a riot of colours makes him pause in his step, Sarah’s tugging notwithstanding.

Unlike the dreary plain walls Tony had been bored to death by, the walls here are painted in beautiful shades of reds and blues and greens. There are rolling hills and lines of flowers and little ducks and puppies frozen in mid-run and a random panda munching on a bamboo stalk.

A piercing shriek breaks Tony’s moment of admiration, and he turns to Sarah.

“Welcome to the children’s ward,” she fondly announces, tugging again at his arm and directing him to one of the open doors at their right. She must know the place extraordinarily well, because, sure enough, Steve’s now-familiar blond head is peeking out from the circle of children around him.

He’s kneeling on the ground, fingers smudged with colors as he presses them onto the paper to draw a kitten out of his thumbprint. Tony’s hit by a pang of something warm that clutches tight to his heart, and he’s helpless to stop the smile spreading across his face.

“Steve,” Sarah calls out, “there’s someone here for you.”

The way Steve’s head shoots up, shocked and disbelieving, would have been comical if not for the word he says.

“Ma?”

Tony whips his head around to Sarah and boggles his eyes at her. She’s smiling serenely, but her eyes are stern and demanding. “I’ve discovered the source of your magic flowers, and I think you owe this man a coffee.”

“Ma,” Steve mumbles, looking up at her tritely and with a plea in his eyes that Tony strongly agrees with.

“No. You either owe this man a coffee or a dinner. And a bouquet of flowers,” Sarah puts her hands on her hips. Tony, finally freed from her grip, does not dare to cross the woman, and even the children fall silent. “If he refuses, then you bring a flower to his doorstep every day, for as many days as the flowers you took.”

And then she adds, “I need grandchildren, Steven. If this man is wonderful enough to put up with your antics, I trust him to put up with you.”

* * *

Tony ends up being dragged into a finger-painting session with the children, who grow attached to his ability to paint deformed robots.

When the children’s parents come to visit them and Tony and Steve are relieved from the rowdy but adorable group, Tony takes the chance to smear a long line of gold paint across his cheek, relishing in the way Steve scrunches his nose.

He doesn’t retaliate.

He takes the forgotten roses and sunflower from the corner, offering them to Tony.

“Do you want to grab some lunch together?”

Tony smiles. “Why don’t we give the grandmas a chance to admire your handsome everything, first?”

* * *

They give the flowers to the elderly women who all coo over Tony, congratulating Steve on finding someone after all this time.

“He’s a handsome one,” the first lady they visit tells Steve, and they both blush as Steve tries to deny that anything is going on between them. The lady doesn’t believe them, “I’ve seen a lot of things in life, dear. You can’t hide from me.”

They give up on denying and decide to roll with it.

* * *

The hospital’s flowerbed blooms prettily the following Spring. Sunflowers stand tall and bright, marigold shrubs lining the walls and sweet peas standing tall in the center of the small garden. A rose bush makes it home near the single bench there, tender hands coaxing the blossoms to flourish.

Every once in a while, Steve will steal a flower from there and slip it behind Tony’s ear, its beauty overshadowed by the light of Tony’s laugh, and the taste of his lips against Steve’s.

And every once in a while, Tony will pin a blossom on the lapels of Steve’s suit, fingers brushing over its soft petals, a promise and a practice for when the day comes.

* * *

Sarah gets an assorted bouquet from them every week, and eventually she gets tired of watching them make out during dinner.

She corners Steve alone one morning during breakfast and slides a cut-out from a newspaper advertisement across the table.

“I’m kicking you out of the house. I want grandchildren but I want to sleep _without_ having to listen to you both.” She pointedly gestures to the newspaper cut-out and the list of prices there, “choose one of those and make it official.”

* * *

The day before Steve asks the question, he plants forget-me-nots in Tony’s garden, right next to the sunflowers where Tony first spotted Steve.

He waters the freshly sown earth and hopes that the blossoms will bloom for years to come.

* * *

The next night, as Tony nods and throws his arms around Steve, he feels a blooming warmth across his soul, growing bigger and brighter than the stars themselves.

* * *

When the day arrives, Tony walks down the aisle with a bouquet of three roses and a sunflower, and pinned atop Steve’s heart is a sprig of forget-me-nots as blue as his eyes, and as they take each other’s hand, their rings clinking gently together, Steve promises to give to Tony all the flowers Tony’s planted in the garden of Steve’s heart.

And Tony?

Tony promises to steal those flowers.

* * *

Steve lets him steal all of them.

And then some more.


End file.
